


Surviving the Dragon

by Lunasirnape257



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, Fake Character Death, Fluff, Intimacy, M/M, Post "And the Beast from the Sea" Events, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-08-31 13:31:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 14,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8580439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunasirnape257/pseuds/Lunasirnape257
Summary: Some actions has its consequences. Hannibal will learn his lesson when the Great Red Dragon's anger reached Will and not just his family.Years after, the doctor will start a journey to know deeper the man he lost, so that he could keep his memory alive. However, when he'll get to New Orleans...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Sobreviviendo al Dragón](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8580256) by [Lunasirnape257](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunasirnape257/pseuds/Lunasirnape257). 



> The characters that appear in this story - except those who have never appeared on the tv show or in the novels/films relating to the character of Hannibal Lecter and, therefore, are entirely my invention and property to the development of the plot – don't belong to me. Its creation and rights are owned by Thomas Harris, Bryan Fuller, the NBC Channel and the DeLaurentis company.

**PART I:**

 

**ACHILLES' LAMENT**

 

They were stuck in the case. They hadn't more clues and they were not going to get anything straight, so Jack sent him home: a weekend with the family might help him clear his mind and return on Monday with renewed energies.

 

When he arrived at the farm in Maine, he found out that all his dogs had suffered a mishap and were hospitalized at the village veterinary clinic: apparently they had eaten something that had intoxicated them... they would be dead if it weren't for Molly and Walter.

 

He spent the entire day in the waiting room of the clinic, until the veterinarian forced him to leave: the dogs were fine. They had been attended in time and were already stabilized. They could come back home in a few days, when they were recovered. There was no point in him staying there.

 

So he returned to the farm... and in doing so, he found himself facing the dragon again.

 

 

 

 

 

Alana was waiting for him in front of the lift when he arrived and they went down to the basement, where Lecter's cell was.

 

'It is true?' asked the psychologist, unable to hide her agitation. 'I've seen it this morning on tv: it's on all the news, Jack.'

 

'It's true.' the FBI agent confirmed. 'The Tooth Fairy is dead: Molly Graham shot him after he broke into her house to murder the family... unfortunately, the bullet came too late.'

 

Alana looked away. She sighed and settled herself into an act reflecting a strand of black hair behind her ear, trying to keep her composure. When she turned back to the agent after a moment, her face was paler than usual and her eyes shone with emotion.

 

Her voice was slightly affected as she spoke:

 

'I made the call you asked. Hannibal's lawyer has confirmed it: he has not been in contact with his client since the trial was over.'

 

Jack snorted, though at this point the news didn't catch him by surprise.

 

'Twisted bastard. This is how they did it: they would have kept in touch pretending that Dolarhyde was his lawyer. And somehow Dolarhyde found out where Will lived...'

 

Alana looked at him uneasily.

 

'Do you think Hannibal gave the address to him, that he deliberately sent him after the Grahams?"

 

'Lecter wouldn't be happy with the idea that Will had a new family, right? He's obsessed with him. And like many psychopaths, he is possessive: knowing Will has redone his life in these three years will have made him angry, he will have become jealous.'

 

'Probably. But if that's the case, then it's backfired... unless he also wanted Will dead.'

 

'I doubt it. Although you know what they say: be careful what you wish for.'

 

'What are you going to do now?' asked Alana after a moment, intrigued. 'You came here to inform Hannibal: you want him to know what happened.'

 

'I want to show him his work and congratulate him on it.' Jack replied. 'I'm going to give Caesar what belongs to him.'

 

At that moment the lift reached its destination and its doors opened wide. The agent and the psychologist went out into the hall together.

 

 

 

 

 

Hannibal was lying on his bed, reading. It was a day like any other... until he saw Alana coming with Jack Crawford.

 

The agent and the psychologist stopped at a safe distance from his cell and watched him with a frown, as had become their habit. He ignored them, though he noticed Jack was tense and Alana upset. Nothing new. He noticed the agent had a newspaper under his arm and that slightly aroused his curiosity.

 

'Good morning.' he greeted them politely. 'Did you bring me any news?'

 

'The Tooth Fairy is dead.' Jack announced, without preamble. 'Molly Graham cut his abdominal aorta with a bullet.'

 

'Good for Mrs. Graham. Her husband will be proud of her, I imagine.' he made a contemptuous grimace. 'Although, I regret Mr. Dolarhyde's wasted potential. And I must add that vulgar nickname the press has given him is not his real name: in life, he wanted to be known as the Great Red Dragon. That was his true identity.'

 

'It doesn't matter anymore. He is dead and will never terrify families ever again.'

 

'The Dragon's goal was not to terrify but to transform his victims.' he left the book he was reading aside and stood up to approach the glass, watching Jack with a glint of curiosity in his eyes. 'Did he transformed Will's family? Is Will furious or satisfied with the result? I imagine he will be very busy, when he has not come here personally.'

 

There was silence. After a moment, Alana spoke to break it:

 

'Will was at the farm when the Dragon arrived. His wife managed to kill Dolarhyde but not before he caught up with them all. Molly Graham died during the night in hospital. There are no survivors, Hannibal.'

 

The doctor blinked. He stared into the psychologist's face, which spoke of anger and sadness evenly, as he tried to process that information in his brain.

 

It couldn't be possible. There must be some kind of mistake.

 

'Will... is he...?'

 

'Dead.' Jack said and his eyes mercilessly accused him. 'You sent the Dragon after the Grahams and he did his job. Now you can boast of it.'

 

'I didn't send Dolarhyde after Will...'

 

'... but you sent him after his family.' Alana intervened, angry. 'You had the opportunity to do good and you rejected it, Hannibal. You could have told Will about Dolarhyde and tell him who he was: they would have stopped him and now Will would be alive.'

 

'And why was he in Maine?' the doctor counterattacked, unable to contain the anger in his voice. 'Who told him to go home?'

 

'He wanted to go.' Jack replied. 'We couldn't go further in the case and he missed Molly and Walter. Who can blame him? Spending the weekend with your beloved ones, that's what family men do.'

 

'Then his family is responsible for what happened, not me.'

 

'The Grahams are dead thanks to your intervention.' Alana said, pearcing him with her eyes. 'Whether you accept it or not, nobody cares. We just came to inform you. And for my part,' she turned to the FBI agent, 'I think we're done here and we should leave.'

 

Jack nodded. He took out the newspaper to wield it before the doctor's face and left it in the drawer that served to reach him objects when it was necessary... like the telephone when he spoke with his lawyer, for example.

 

'All yours, Doctor, in case you want to recreate yourself in reading.' He went back to the glass to say goodbye to him. There was a faint glimmer of triumph in his eyes. 'I am glad to know that, after all, Will is free from you at last. You can hurt him anymore. Goodbye, Dr. Lecter.'

 

They left together, leaving him standing there alone. Hannibal watched them as they walked away but his eyes didn't see anything. Suddenly, he felt his body invaded by a kind of emptiness. His brain became a dark cloud with thousands of thoughts and feelings that blended together. He heard Jack's last words again inside his head, now aware of what they meant: Will was gone. He had lost him. He would never see him again.

 

His lips trembled and he couldn't help a tear slid down his cheek.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

She walked down the corridor, the heels of her boots resounding against the linoleum floor. She reached the glass cell and stopped at a prudent distance, watching the man lying on the cot, who turned his back on her as if he didn't want to know anything about her or about the rest of the world.

 

She pushed a strand of red hair away from her face, uneasy. She knew she would have trouble with Alana if she found out that she had come to visit him but something inside said her she must be there: her wife would think it was a risk and a waste of time and yet she felt it was the right thing.

 

'Good evening, Dr. Lecter.'

 

The psychiatrist didn't move, though something in his posture indicated her he was aware of her presence.

 

'Good afternoon, Margot. What brings you here?'

 

'I have something for you.' she reached into her bag, trembling, and pulled out a bundle of letters. 'Few days ago, after the funeral, a group of friends went to Will's farm: Molly's mother called us in case we wanted to keep some of his things before she donating them to Charity. The truth is that there was not much: some books, clothes, fishing gear... and a collection of bottles of whiskey.' she smiled, nostalgic.

 

She couldn't see how the doctor corresponded her.

 

'He liked whiskey.' said Hannibal, not addressing anyone in particular.

 

'I know. You see, the fact is...' she said, after a pause. 'I found some letters on a desk in the living room. They were in a locked drawer, Molly's mother gave me the key. The letters are addressed to you: closed and unmarked, it's clear he never sent them... although he might have thought to do so.'

 

'No.' Hannibal predicted, grimacing. 'He was not going to send them, that's why he wrote them. Surely he did it to answer the ones I sent him. Just to vent, without any intention of sending them to the mail, of course.'

 

'Anyway, I thought I should bring them in.' she looked at him sadly. 'Will is not with us anymore. I guess reading about the things he wrote to you cannot do any harm.'

 

'Maybe yes or maybe not. Anyway, it was a praiseworthy gesture, Margot. So kind of you.'

 

'Yes, well, I'll leave them in the drawer.' she walked over and left the wrap inside, just as she had said. 'Make sure Alana doesn't know it: you know what she'd think about this. And she should not know I came to see you, either.'

 

'Dont worry, I'll keep your secret.'

 

'I appreciate it.' she stood there a few more seconds, in silence, then she sighed and walked away from the cell. 'Goodbye, Dr. Lecter.'

 

'Goodbye, Margot.'

 

 

 

 

As soon as she left, Hannibal got up and went to pick up the letters.

 

It was a prolific bundle, containing no less than twenty letters: Will must have begun to respond to him after the first year and would have stopped as the third approached, perhaps because he was frightened or ashamed of his actions.

 

Hannibal weighed the bundle in his hands as he returned to the cot to study it. The texture of the envelopes was soft, they smelled of ink and paper, stuffy... and underneath all those scents, buried for him to find it, was Will's scent: fresh air, dog hair, river bank flowers, freshly cut firewood... and the unmistakable and infamous aftershave.

 

He closed his eyes tightly, letting the perfume flood his nose and brain, bringing back the memory of the last time he had smelled it: the day Will Graham stood before his cell and asked for his help to hunt the Dragon. He already knew he would come, of course. He had known that since the night he'd let Jack arrest him in Virginia. Sooner or later the killer would come for Jack Crawford to go to Will Graham and then his wonderful friend couldn't resist the temptation to use his gift to catch another murderer. It was something he was too good at and he liked the chase, he was sure.

 

They just needed a conversation. A few words in private to convince him, so that everything would be as before, so that they could belong to each other again...

 

But Will had died and all his hopes had died with him. They had been of no use the past years trying to make his friend see his true potential; Nor his attempts to free him; Nor the pardon of a betrayal that had left his heart broken and bleeding; Not even the renunciation of his freedom, to which he had voluntarily acceded so that Will knew where to find him and could go to him when he was ready.

 

All his efforts were go to waste. Alana and Jack thought the death of their friend was his fault but they were wrong... at least 80%. He wasn't responsible for anything. What the hell was Will doing in Maine, knowing that this weekend was full moon and so the Dragon would attack? Why had he returned with his family, when the case was still not closed? He had been stupid. He had ruined everything. He should have stayed in the city, he should have waited until his work was finished, he should...

 

Tears struck him before he could contain them. He felt the sting in his eyes and his vision clouded for a moment while he wiped his eyes with both hands, trying to control his impotence and anger. Will was to blame for his misery. He wanted to hate him and he couldn't, despite all the damage he had done to him: his loss had made these days an abyss for him, where he constantly navigated between apathy and an excessive sleep. He didn't cry and yet his pillow dawned every day soaking wet. His friend's presence was like an omnipresent ghost in his Mental Palace. He couldn't and didn't want to get rid of it.

 

Everything he'd done for Will... he had given him almost everything. And he would have given him more, if he had had the chance. He let himself to be put in prison just so he could be around, near to Will. But that didn't matter anymore. The only reason he stayed trapped like an insect behind the glass was gone. Nothing made sense anymore.

 

He opened the first letter because he was looking forward to know its contents. He recognized Will's handwriting instantly and could almost see his friend sitting alone in front of his desk, perhaps with a warm fire crackling in the fireplace, perhaps with some of his dogs thrown at his feet and no doubt with a glass of whiskey and a bottle by his side, writing to a man he said he hated – because he represented everything he feared and hated on himself - but whose attraction he couldn't resist. He was so incapable of ignoring or disarming the bond that bound them as himself.

 

His brown eyes traveled over the letters, which were all what Will had left him. He drank his friend's words, to the point that he began to hear them pronounced by Will's voice in his head, with that smooth southern accent he knew and loved so much:

 

_Dear Hannibal..._

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Hannibal had to wait some weeks to execute his plan. And not only because of the apathetic state in which Will's unexpected death had plunged him but because it wasn't the right moment yet.

 

He had to choose the right date and time of day, if he wanted his plan to work.

 

In that three years he had been locked up, he had devised several different escape strategies, some of which were supported by Chiyoh, others not. He put into practice one that didn't include the invaluable help of his former nanny because he hadn't been able to communicate with her after what happened with Dolarhyde, since Alana had suspended his calls as punishment and he was - once more - isolated.

 

But he still had his own resources. And Alana wasn't in the hospital that day: Christmas day. Like so many other including half the staff, she would be at home having lunch with her family, while Hannibal gobbled up the adecuate dose of medication to be sent to the infirmary.

 

He had made a deal with one of the keepers to get him what he needed, when he needed it, in exchange for a substantial sum of money. He was an ambitious and cunning young man named Oliver Hudson, who had been on his payroll for more than a year. Hannibal knew it would be useful to cultivate his friendship as soon as they exchanged the first words and since then, he had spared no effort to gain his trust and his support for.

 

As was often said, it was convenient to have friends even in hell.

 

Mr. Hudson had dreams for the future and for that he needed money, so getting a rich patron - even when this was a cannibal serial killer - seemed to him a good way to do it. It was a totally respectable maneuver, of course. All Mr. Hudson had to do was lend him his hand when he asked for it and in exchange the doctor would fill it with bills, without the need for anyone to know. It was a good deal, a gentlemen's agreement.

 

Shortly after noon on the twenty-fifth of December, while everyone was enjoying lunch, Hannibal collapsed in his cell and was taken by Mr. Hudson to the infirmary on a stretcher. He was attended by the nurse in charge, who unexpectedly underestimated the sedative effect of drugs on her patient and ended up being attacked by this while she was trying to place him an intravenous. The doctor strangled her until she was unconscious. He had no reason to kill her and he didn't want to alarm his accomplice with a murder no one had spoken to.

 

With the nurse out of the game and locked in the cleaning closet, Hannibal changed his clothes using those that Mr. Hudson had gotten him - simple jeans and a flannel shirt. It wasn't the kind of clothing he would ever wear but the outfit didn't attract attention and it would help him go unnoticed until he could return to his tailored suits and his wool jerseys and cloth pants - and then both went to the exit of the building. Mr. Hudson led him to the back and they reached the parking lot, where his ranchero was parked.

 

There were no people around at that precise moment of the day. The hospital and the parking lot were deserted and they had no problem leaving the place because Hannibal hid himself very well and no one suspected a caretaker who was going home after finishing his journey... the doctor let his partner drive to the main road and a hundred meters before, he took out the scalpel he had stolen from the infirmary.

 

Oliver Hudson was dead before he knew it. He didn't even know the doctor had taken a weapon: Hannibal severed his jugular with a single stroke, fast and precise. He managed to stop the vehicle at the side of the road, while his accomplice blew himself on the steering wheel and then he went out of quickly to remove the corpse, being careful not to stain his clothes. He hid the body as well as he could so they wouldn't find it soon and then got into the car, taking care of wiping the blood with a rag he found in the glove compartment, before entering the traffic on the road.

 

He drove on the way to the airport, where Chiyoh had rented one of the ticket booths at his order and left him there a small travel bag with everything he needed, from money to clothes and legal documents: his plan was to buy a ticket for anywhere and leave the country without raising suspicion, before they realized he has escaped and could locate him.

 

Of course Jack would chase after him but that didn't bother him too much. He had already escaped from Jack Crawford before and even though he knew how stubborn the head of the Behavioral Sciences Unit could become, especially in relation to his work, not even him was eternal. Sooner or later he would be forced to leave him alone and he could return to his routine. He would start again somewhere far from North America.

 

There was nowhere and no one to tie him there. Without Will, any plan or hope for the future was obsolete. He only had to exist... and he didn't intend to do so in a maximum-security cell at Baltimore's Psychotic Criminals Hospital. No. It no longer made sense to remain locked in, waiting for a man who would never come. He must take it and move on.

 

Will has gone. And if he was already free, then he must be too.

 

When he arrived at the airport, he left the ranchero in the parking lot and did what he had planned. The ticket he bought was for Buenos Aires, Argentina. He got on the plane an hour later, dressed in an elegant three-piece suit and carrying the bag on board as luggage.

 

As the plane's engines started, he leaned back in his first-class seat and closed his eyes. When it took off, he felt that a part of him did too: it stayed in Baltimore, tied to the memories and everything he was leaving behind.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**PART II:  
**

 

**BEHIND YOU  
**

 

 _Buenos Aires, Argentina._ _4 years after_.

 

The day was warm. Spring was being a little wet that year but nothing he couldn't stand.

 

It was early afternoon and he was sitting on the porch of the house he owned on the outskirts of town, an old farmhouse he had bought on arrival for a modest price and renovated by himself in less than a year. The house had a white facade, two bedrooms and a single floor. It had a small study and bathroom en suite. Next to the kitchen he had planted a kitchen garden and in the front there was an orchard where one of his employees, Alfredo, was occupied: his wife and him were in charge of all the chores in the house. He had hired them shortly after arriving and was very satisfied with their work, their affable character and their discretion. Good help were not easy to find and these also lived nearby. He certainly couldn't ask for more.

 

Alfredo was pruning the trees while Alegría, the dog that the couple had adopted three years ago, was running alongside. He was a half-breed stray, small, with only three legs because he had lost the fourth a cause of an outrage. He himself had found the dog one morning by the road, in such a pitiful state he couldn't resist picking him up and taking him to the vet. The dog had no owner, so he would go to the dog pound and gets euthanized, if they couldn't find an owner for him soon.

 

He didn't want a dog. He had never been particularly close to pets, or animals in general, and he didn't need one to keep him company. But that creature had looked at him with his large brown eyes full of confidence and gratitude. He was helpless and he knew that – if he had been alive - Will would never have forgiven him, if he had left the dog there. So he did the only thing he could do: he paid the bill and took the dog home. He gave him to Alfredo and his wife, Martina, who received him affectionately and had taken great care of him to date. The dog couldn't be happier.

 

From time to time, Alegria approached him wagging his tail, studying his mood to see if he could benefit from some caresses and games. Sometimes he caressed him and sometimes not, sometimes he played with him and from time to time - during his outbursts of melancholy - he took him in his arms and caressed him until the animal feel asleep placidly in his lap.

 

The dog reminded him a lot of Will: Alegría had come to him just a few years before, broken and helpless, in need of someone to take care of him and give him love and care. Every time he saw him, he thought of his partner, who despite not being at his side had never abandoned him: he lived with him in his Mental Palace and they sat down every evening to talk, facing each other in the armchairs of his old office or at the head of his table, where they talked about everything they wanted to talk about. On many of those occasions he had apologized for what had happened and Will had always responded with silence.

 

He missed him so much. They had never come to share everything they should have shared. They had been close, very close, but their plans for the future had never been realized. And the situation was hopeless. Only the memories and the nostalgia of the past remained now...

 

 _'Enough._ _You know it's not a good idea.'_ he said himself, irritated. He'd been thinking about it for months and he knew it was dangerous but still...

 

 _'Four years have passed._ _The search has been relaxed_.'

 

 _'I'm still on the FBI list of Most Wanted_.'

 

 _'Jack Crawford has retired._ _He lives in Europe now, remember?_ _You don't have to fear anything from him.'_

 

 _'Still not a good idea._ _Going back to the past is not good.'_

 

_'Will did it for you.'_

 

 _'Will wanted to understand me before he found me again._ _But I cannot find him anymore.'_ he thought, saddened. ' _It's not possible...'_

 

_'No matter the possibilities but the desires: you want to do this, what prevents you?'_

 

 _'I don't want to jeopardize my freedom._ _Not again.'_

 

 _'But you would do it for him._ _It's always been for him, isn't it?'_

 

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them Alegría was in front of him, looking at him and wagging his tail, happy. He grabbed him on impulse and got up to go find the owner, still caressing the dog along the way.

 

'Alfredo.' he said in Spanish, stopping when he reached the gardener. The man stopped working and turned to look at him. 'I must go on a trip: I'll leave soon, would you and Martina mind to take care of the house? It's an important issue and I don't know how long it will take me.'

 

'Of course, Mr. Wyman.' he looked at him with some concern, not wanting to be indiscreet. 'Is everything okay?'

 

'All is perfectly okay.' he left Alegria on the ground and the dog barked enthusiastically, before running away and getting lost behind a bush. No doubt he would have found something to hunt. 'I'll leave you money for the expenses on the dining table. You will also have a number to call, in case something happens or you need more money.'

 

'All right, Mr. Wyman. I hope you do well on your trip.'

 

'I hope so too. Goodbye, Alfredo.'

 

'Goodbye, sir.'

 

He left and made his way toward the house. He had a lot to organize. He knew it was crazy but he would do it anyway. Because he wanted to do it. Because he needed to feel himself close to Will again.

 

Now he had only memories of his partner... and he wanted to return to them.

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

The little house in Virginia was just like he remembered. It stood with its white facade in the middle of nowhere, stoic as a lighthouse on the sea... only this time the lighthouse was off: it was daytime and the house had been abandoned for several years, since its last owner - the old man whom Will had sold it before he moved to Maine with his family – had died.

 

Hannibal stood in the front yard, watching the house, seeing the memories of another life pass before his eyes.

 

His first stop from Argentina had been Baltimore. The property he owned in the city, where he had resided and worked for years before being imprisoned, remained his and no one had occupied it, so it was an attractive place from which to coordinate his actions: the journey through Will's past would be short, there were not many places to visit. The journey itself was an absurd but powerful idea. He could being identified and imprisoned by the US authorities at any time but the risk was worth it. It wasn't something he wanted but something he needed... both of them needed it.

 

Will was to him a greater obsession after he died than when he was alive: his sudden demise had truncated any plan or expectation of a possible future together, leaving him adrift. He felt lost without him. He needed to get him back somehow. Maybe getting a trophy, something to keep his memory, so that his loss not hurt him so much. A way to let him go but at the same time to keep him forever and never to lose him again.

 

It wasn't a rational thing but it didn't matter. He just wanted to get Will back.

 

The visit to the farm in Maine had been unsuccessful. The house had been sold three years ago and there was nothing left in it of the family that inhabited there in the past. Its new owners had made it their home with all the consequences. So he hadn't lost time with it and had moved to Virginia, following the route outlined in his plans.

 

He headed for the house and entered carefully forcing the lock of the main door, using the game of picks he used to carry over when the occasion required it. Just closing the door behind him, the past struck him like a slap in the face: nothing had changed, not even the furniture. There was the fireplace in the living room and the kitchen with the bedroom in the background, the bed by the window...

 

In that chair he had sat the last time he saw Will, before being arrested. There he sat down during his last conversation and heard the worst words that could come out of the mouth of his partner:

 

' _I'm not going to find you. I'm not going to look for you. I don't want to know where you are or what you do. I don't want to think about you anymore. Goodbye, Hannibal_.'

 

He felt the familiar pain through his heart again. He walked away from that hateful memory, heading his steps into the living room and stopping to watch the fireplace, trying to regain control over the emotions that were raging inside him.

 

Suddenly he saw it. There was a photo on the ledge. A photo that would certainly have been left behind during the move and that obviously the previous owner hadn't bothered to withdraw.

 

He came to look at the picture. He took it with both hands, smiling at the man who appeared in it: dressed for fishing, surrounded by a marabout of dogs. He didn't smile at the camera, he just had that happy expression on his face, as if that was his best moment...

 

He closed his eyes and pressed the photograph to his chest, feeling his heart responds. Will's presence was evident in that house, just as it had been in Baltimore. It floated in the air, impregnating everything: the table where so many times they had dined together; The fireplace where they had literally burned leaves of old records in an attempt to eliminate any incriminating connection between he and his patients; The armchairs where they had shared talks and confidences during their therapy sessions. Will's smell... it was in them. He could walk his hands through the leather and feel his body almost as if it were real. If inhaled, his nostrils filled with the smell of old and stuffy and below them was Will's essence, enclosed, waiting for him. He could revive the last moments together in his head and heard the voice of his partner as if he still was alive and right in front of him:

 

_'I want to resume our therapy.'_

 

_'Did you just smell me!?'_

 

_'Please, don't psychoanalyze me. You won't like me when I'm psychoanalyzed.'_

 

_'Hannibal... I forgive you.'_

 

Tears attacked him again. He did his best to hold himself because he hated feeling vulnerable. He must get out of there before breaking mourn. He took the photo out of its frame and brought it with him, unable to leave it behind: he just folded it in half and put it in his jacket pocket, a second before leaving the house for good.

 

He couldn't go back to that place, it wasn't safe. But the visit hadn't been in vain and he was carried with him a souvenir. That was something but not enough.

 

Still there was a final stop on his journey waiting for him.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**PART III**

 

**NEW ORLEANS**

 

 

New Orleans. A special city with its own personality. Refuge for cultures and contrasts.

 

He had spent several days knowing the city. From his hotel room in the French Quarter - which delighted him with its blend of European heritage and Creole spirit - he had been moving around the city, trying to recreate the past.

 

Will and his father had traveled much in their lives, until they finally settle there. His partner had spent part of his childhood and adolescence in the state capital and because of it, he still had some traces in his accent, although this was easily adapted to the speech of Virginia, his second home.

 

During those days he had enjoyed New Orleans and its gastronomy. It was fascinating. He was thinking maybe stay longer to learn some Creole cuisine but before that... he must fulfill a purpose.

 

That morning he got up early to go to the marina. He wanted to take a walk along the harbour and watch the scenery where little Will Graham had grown, surrounded by engines, ships and sailors. While he was touring the dock and watching the boats moored there - the majority yachts and small boats, where people from all backgrounds worked or lived – he imagined a thin boy of brown curls and big blue eyes running around. He was a child dressed in the most humble way, with faded jeans and sneakers and old shirts...

 

He was cleaning a boat. He was rinsing the soap with a water hose, making the hull of the sailing ship spotless. Beside him there was a sudsy bucket and a tan mongrel dog that was the picture of Winston... even he barked to recognise him but he didn't move from his place beside his owner.

 

The man turned to look at him, causing his body froze and his breath dry in his throat, when he saw him face to face. It was impossible to go wrong because they were less than a hundred meters. He felt as if he was nail to the ground with a spear: it was impossible but... the work boots, the jeans and flannel shirt; the brown hair struggling to curl at the tips; those blue eyes, big as gems, almond-shaped, like dove's eyes.

 

The young man frowned with surprise while behold him.

 

'Can I help you?' he asked, with his unmistakable Southern accent.

 

He didn't answer. He couldn't. He had lost the power of speech and had to close his eyes tight to make sure this was madness. It couldn't be real. But when he opened his eyes again, he found him and realized he was there and he wasn't going to disappear.

 

'Will...'

 

'Sorry, do we know each other?' his scowled even more. Now he was confused. And he could not blame him: he was sure that his expression showed his profound stupefaction. 'Sir, are you all right?'

 

'Sir.' that hurt him. Suddenly he realized something he couldn't conceive, something shocking and terrible: 'You... you don't remember me.'

 

'No, I'm sorry, I...' he shook his head and he knew by the look on his face he was telling the truth. It was too much. Before he realized what he was doing, he had turned on his heels and walked away. He didn't need to have eyes in the back of his neck to guess the look of surprise in the young man's face. 'Hey, wait! Sir, did you want to tell me something? Wait...!'

 

He left the dock without looking back. He could only think about what had just happened: he wanted to stop in order to think, retrace his steps to talk to him but instead he walked away, putting distance between them.

 

How had that happened? What kind of miracle had brought his partner to life or had been allowed him to stay alive? His face had marks, he had guessed one on his right cheek, hidden by the beard. The Dragon had touched him but not transformed him. Had Jack Crawford lied when he gave him the news of Will's death?

 

His brain was teeming with thoughts and theories. He was confused, happy and angry at the same time. The situation was beyond him. He had to find a safe place to think. He must decide what he was going to do next, how he would handle that. It wasn't something he could simply ignore.

 

He must deal with a beautiful and terrible reality: Will was alive... and he didn't remember him.

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

He came back two days later. Will was lying face down on the deck, fixing a broken motor. Around him there were various tools deployed and not far was another engine to repair... it was being a week of little work for him.

 

Winston was curled by the railing, enjoying a late nap. His head came up suddenly when he felt a strange approach. He barked and Will looked up to find the same unknown man from the other day, watching him standing in front of his boat.

 

He stood up and went close to the railing.

 

'Hello.' he greeted with caution. He didn't want the other to come out scared and fleeing as the last time. 'You are back. I didn't expect it.'

 

'I have come to apologize.' the man announced, grimacing. 'See you the other day was a huge surprise for me...'

 

'So do we know each other?' he asked curiously. Something told him he had seen the man's face somewhere but he couldn't remember. He was unable to remember an entire section of his past, apparently as a result of an acute trauma.

 

'My name is Lloyd Wyman.' the man introduced himself, coming to reach out to him. Will shook his hand and, with a gesture, he gave him permission and helped him go up on deck. 'We were good friends in the past.'

 

'When I was working for the FBI?'

 

'Exactly. I was a consultant to the Bureau, we solved many cases together.'

 

'Well' he looked at him uncomfortably. 'I'm sorry... it will seem crazy to you but I had an accident four years ago and I remember nothing of that time...'

 

'Don't worry.' Wyman gestured dismissively. He stared at him almost for a minute, seemed unable to take his eyes off him. 'I'm surprised.' he confessed. 'I'm so glad to reacquaint you, Will. Could you explain me what happened? Jack told me you were dead.'

 

'He told everyone.' he nodded. 'When I woke up in the hospital, he was there and told me that my family and I had been attacked by a serial killer. I didn't remember anything. A stir among doctors was armed because I couldn't remember anything of my job as a FBI agent: I could remember everything else but not that. It's not something usual, as long as I have heard.'

 

'May occur rarely, when there is a serious psychological trauma.'

 

'That's what the doctors concluded. The fact is that Jack told me about my time as an agent and he said to me they had arranged to give new identities to me and my family... they were going to give it to us to avoid the media harrasment and, I suppose, also in part as a reward for services rendered.' he snorted wryly. 'You know, we finished with the Tooth Fairy, apparently.'

 

'Everyone thought you were dead.' Wyman said, after a moment. In his eyes there was understanding. 'And you abandoned your farm in Maine, of course. Where did you go?'

 

'Florida. We lived there for three years but things between Molly and I... well...'

 

'You don't have to give me details.' he said, kindly. He actually didn't need to hear the whole story, he had only to interpret the clues put in front of him. 'Events like the one you lived often create tensions and sometimes broken marriages. I'm sorry for that, Will.'

 

'You don't have anything to be sorry about.' he sighed. 'I did some silly things and Molly got tired of me. She had every right. A year ago we divorced and I haven't seen her or Wally again. Now it's just Winston and me.' he smiled fondly looking at the dog. 'He escaped from home and made the whole trip from Florida to New Orleans to meet me.'

 

' _Semper fidelis_.'

 

'Yes.' he nodded. He couldn't help the pride in his voice. Seconds later he sighed again and glanced toward the newcomer. 'Hey... I'd love you to stay to talk but right now I have work to do and I cannot...

 

'Don't worry. I have some errands to do. Can you tell me where I can find the harbormaster's office?'

 

'Over there.' he pointed the way for him. 'Are you thinking about buy a boat?' he asked jokingly.

 

Wyman smiled at him.

 

'I was actually thinking of renting one, as a temporary home: I'm on vacation in the city and I'm thinking to extend my stay here.'

 

'That's a good idea.' approved Will. 'New Orleans has much to offer. If you stay, we could see each other in the future.'

 

'Of course.' he held out his hand, which the young man shook for a while. The grip was nice and warm, Wyman's smile and eyes expressed a sincere appreciation. 'I may stick around a while.'

 

'I'll wait for you then to drink beer and catch up.'

 

'Whenever you want. Revoir, Will.'

 

'Goodbye, Lloyd.'

 

They separated and Wyman left. Will approached the railing to see him leave the dock. He was a strange man but he had felt an immediate understanding between the two. He intrigued him, maybe that's why he felt slightly uneasy in his presence. However, he had been friendly with him at all times and he didn't seem to be lying. It really seemed he knew him and Jack.

 

He sighed, before returning to work. He was sure that there was nothing to fear from Lloyd Wyman.

 

 

 

 

Wagner's music sounded inside the cabin of the boat.

 

In the tiny kitchen, finishing to prepare a delicious plate of pasta with pesto sauce, Hannibal Lecter smiled, satisfied with the progress he has made and the plans he was going to realize in the city.

 

It had taken him two days to recover from the impact of finding Will alive. Many things had gone through his mind, until he finally had the strength to stand in front of his friend and talk to him about what happened.

 

He hadn't discovered anything he hadn't imagined: he have had enough time mulling over it and there weren't many theories able to explain what happpened. Finally, an acute trauma and a ploy by Jack – surely to save Will from him and not only to avoid the media consequences of his actions... or his wife's would be more correct to say. Nobody offered new identities to a whole family just like that - was the most plausible explanation and it not caught him by surprise. He was already accustomed to Jack Crawford's wiles.

 

He would have killed him if he wasn't already dead. He had died of a heart attack in Italy, more than a year ago. The news had just taken a few lines in a newspaper from the Tuscany, where the former FBI agent had retired. Now he rested in peace with his wife Bella. He lamented his death as much as once lamented his wife's... except that he wouldn't keep eternal grudge for what he had done to him.

 

It had been so cruel... and for no other reason than to hurt him, taking away for good all that mattered for him: Will.

 

But now it could be said the waters had returned to normal: he was in New Orleans with his newfound friend and nobody could put them ahead. He had acquired a boathouse not far from Will's, where he was going to live for the next three months... and meanwhile he'll go closer and closer to his friend. He would be careful to go slowly conquering Will, as before, to win him over completely. There was no wives, families, friends or bosses on their way that could separate them now.

 

It was their opportunity and he would ensure that both will take advantage of it.

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

It was in a sorry state. It can't have more than year and a half, It was still a puppy. Dark fur and big blue eyes, its appearance reminiscent of a Labrador, though he wasn't sure it has pedigree.

 

He found it when he was leaving the store. It was half hidden in the alley. It wore a rope around its neck as a collar, broken at the point where the dog would probably have broken it to escape from wherever they had it tied. The animal's thinness was alarming, revealing its ribcage.

 

The pup walked away quickly when he approached and hid in the darkness of the alley while the doctor deposited some food on the ground to show it he came in peace, so that he could earn its trust. It didn't cost him too much: the animal was smart and kept the distance but like any abandoned creature, it came where he can obtain love and care... and food.

 

A few pieces of beef and the dog had no problem in following him up his car, tail wagging occasionally to show goodwill. Hannibal took it up into the passenger seat after placing a handkerchief on it, to avoid it being blemished or fill with hairs: the dog didn't seem to have spend a long time on the streets and judging by its behaviour it was accustomed to living with humans but it didn't hide the fact that it should need a bath, a wormed and a good brushing.

 

Hannibal knew where he could get help for that, so he promptly got in the car and headed to the harbour.

 

It was time to build relationships with his neighbour... and his new pet gave him the perfect excuse to do so.

 

 

 

 

He saw him coming across the dock, dressed in an elegant light gray suit, with a bag from a local store in a hand and the dog curled up against his chest, held by his left arm.

 

The appearance of the animal was so plaintive that Will instinctively stopped what he was doing and got off the boat to intercept Wyman.

 

'Lloyd, what happens? Is the dog okay?'

 

'I'm glad to meet you, Will.' his neighbour greeted him with a smile. 'I've found him in an alley, next to the grocery store in Doyle Street. I couldn't leave him there, so...'

 

'You have done well. Have you already taken him to the vet?'

 

'I found no clinics on the way.' he excused himself, wincing revealing his regret. 'I don't know the city very well and...'

 

'Don't worry. He looks bad but he seems not need medical care: anything that doesn't heal some food and affection.' he looked at him scowling. 'Are you going to keep him?'

 

Wyman sighed dejectedly.

 

'I'd love it but my landlord doesn't let me have pets in his boat. I know it's a big inconvenience, Will, but I've remembered you like dogs and you used to pick them up from the streets when you lived in Virginia...'

 

'Of course. Leave it to me.' he picket the dog carefully. He checked the sex, figuring out the pup was a female and looked up to watch him decided. 'We'll take care of her.'

 

'Can we establish a shared custody?' he asked, interested. 'You give her accommodation and I cover the expenses. We'll care her between the two.'

 

'Ok. Have you given her a name yet?'

 

'Abigail.' said the doctor with a smile. Will blinked: the name was vaguely familiar to him but he knew no one who was called so. 'She reminds me of a patient I had long ago.'

 

'Are you a doctor?' he asked, slightly surprised. A consequence of not remembering his friend.

 

'I was. I retired a few years ago.'

 

'That's fine.' he stroked the dog's head, distracted, and motioned with his head toward his boat. 'Come on, let's get Abigail inside: we must give her food and a bath and I want to apply on her one of Winston's antiparasitic blisters. It will work well for her.'

 

'You're the expert.' the doctor smiled. 'Please, after you.'

 

They set up and a few seconds later they were on deck, where Wyman spoke again:

 

'When we have time, I'll find a veterinary clinic to carry her for a check. Incidentally, we can find out if she have a microchip and who has been so far her owner.'

 

Will bristled to hear him, he watched him indignantly:

 

'I want to know if there has been an owner too: I am trying to decide between beat him up or shoot him.'

 

Wyman smiled, pleased.

 

'That's not a bad idea.'

 

Will snorted and leaving Abigail's back in the doctor's arms while he disappeared into the cabin to fetch Winston's tub.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Abigail was a happy puppy. Still she remained cautious and wary with strangers but after two weeks, she had completely adapted to her new owners and the life in the harbour. She spent the day napping, eating and running around, trying to entice Winston with her games, although the old dog usually ignored her.

 

Hannibal and Will bought her several toys, a collar with a leash, a bed and two bowls when they took her to the vet. Right there they discovered she had no microchip, so they rushed to put her one and fill her legal papers, all in the name of both. Thus Abigail would be legally their and if some undesirable person had the brilliant idea of claim her...

 

The lively puppy contributed to unite them more, since they spent at least two hours together each day while taking care of the dog, especially when they took it out for a walk: they had made a routine of going out late in the afternoon with Winston and Abigail for a stroll around the city and during their walks, they also had acquired the habit of talking about their lives, about how had been their day or simply talk about the past and the relationship they had before separating.

 

Hannibal had just told Will what he considered adecuated: without revealing too much, just enough to the curiosity of young man was satisfied and not encouraged him to inquire further. His friend might discover the truth just making a little research on the Internet and that wasn't advisable. Hannibal had enough to hide his face under a hat and sunglasses when he went out because, despite the subtle surgical arrangements he had undergone in Argentina, and although he had aged and his hair had turned grayer over those four years, he could still be recognizable to someone who saw his picture or had his face in memory.

 

He'd better be careful.

 

In time, the issue of Creole cuisine come to light between the two. Specifically, it did during the first night Will went Hannibal's boat-house for dinner. Then the young man had offered to give his neighbour some simple practical classes if he wished and, in order not to disappoint him, the doctor hadn't the courage to say no.

 

Will hadn't lost his passion for fishing, so he used to have seafood and fish in his fridge regularly. That night, he taught Hannibal how to prepare a delicious crawfish and shrimp etouffe with tomatoes, bell peppers and various spices, accompanied with rice and crackers. The doctor attended to the show sitting on a stool in the tiny kitchen, without missing a single detail. The stew was delicious. They enjoyed it together in the small dining room table, before retiring to the couch to open the bottle of whiskey that Hannibal had brought as a gift and pour its contents into two glasses.

 

They took several drinks while chatting and at early hours of the morning, Will was already half dozing on the couch. Abigail was in his lap, curled up sleeping the sleep of the puppies, while Winston did the same in his bed in the kitchen. Hannibal watched - curious and amazed - as his friend leaned his head against the back and closed his eyes, unable to hide his fatigue and the drowsiness that alcohol had caused him.

 

'It's a little bit late.' said the doctor, realizing that it was time to leave. 'It was a delightful evening, Will, but I am afraid I must go home.'

 

The young man opened his eyes, looking at him with a mixture of amusement and regret. He rubbed his eyes, sleepy.

 

'I'm Sorry. I'm a bit tired...'

 

'It is normal.'

 

'I'll walk you to the door.' he offered and made a move to get up but Hannibal stopped him.

 

'Don't worry. If you move now, you'll wake Abigail up. Sleep quiet the two, I can find out the exit for myself.'

 

'Thanks for coming.' Will say goodbye to him, sleepily watching as the doctor left his seat. 'I have fun with the cooking classes.'

 

'Me too. I hope there will be more, I don't want to lose the rhythm of my learning.'

 

Will let out a snort, accompanied by a laugh.

 

'You shouldn't. You're a star pupil. Come back tomorrow for more, Lloyd.'

 

'See you tomorrow, Will.'

 

The young man leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes. Hannibal stood there, knowing that the other couldn't see him because he had just fallen asleep. He seemed so innocent with the puppy in his lap and that placid expression on his face... like a child who has spent the afternoon playing and then going to bed exhausted and satisfied.

 

He couldn't keep a smile. He approached Will, knowing he wouldn't wake up, and leaned to deposit a devout kiss on his friend forehead. He stroked his hair, felt the soft skin beneath his lips and inhaled his scent before turning around and left the boat.

 

He returned home feeling nostalgic and yet satisfied with himself. He couldn't wait for tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

In the morning, Will was sitting at the dining room table by the window, holding a cup of coffee in his hands. He stared at the first rays of sun on the water and thought of Lloyd Wyman.  
  
They had gotten along very well from the beginning. He shouldn´t be surprised, considering they already shared a friendship in the past and now they were neighbours but...  
  
He knew Lloyd was hiding something from him. He felt it, though the doctor had not given him motives to suspect foul play: his version of the facts was convincing and after searching for him on Google, he had found out that everything he had told him about his life was true. He had no reason to think he was lying to him.  
  
However...  
  
There was something odd in his attitude to him: from the beginning Lloyd had sought to be close to him, that was evident. After the initial shock of meeting him at the pier, he had returned two days later to make the introductions and in less than a week later, he had moved a few boats away from him and brought him an stray puppy, knowing he would be unable to resist adopting it, since he had done so many times in the past... it had been almost like an offering of peace. It seemed as if Lloyd was somehow trying to reach out to him, to foster closeness and friendship between them.  
  
There was nothing wrong with that, of course. It could even said to be normal, considering that they were already friends and he preferred not to think how bad Lloyd would have had felt when he thought he has died and suddenly, four years later, he discovered it had all been a lie by Jack Crawford. The doctor must - and had a right to be - as confused as himself.  
  
Still, there was something else: he was aware that Lloyd had only told him the basics about their common past. Apparently, they had been good friends but then they lost contact and when they saw each other again for work reasons, he was married to Molly and had moved to Maine. However, his wife - who had been in charge along with Jack of updating him on that stage of his past that he couldn't remember - had never told him about Lloyd. Didn't she know him? Why he hadn't told her about his friend, before he lost his memory? And why did he feel that he was walking on slippery ground, every time he tried to get the good doctor out of the relationship they had had in the past?  
  
The intimacy and trust between them was something natural. Maybe he was missing something? Perhaps there had been much more than what Lloyd had told him... and for some strange reason he was comfortable with that possibility. Perhaps his friend hadn't wanted to tell him more so as not to disturb him, since he remembered nothing of his presence in his life. If that was the case, it must be very hard for him...  
  
One way or another, he had to find out the truth. It was absurd to play like kids with the issue: if his relationship with Lloyd had been more than friendly, for him it was all right but he wanted to know it. He didn't remember ever having a romantic relationship with any man but he wasn't prejudiced, either... not especially when he was so attracted to Lloyd in many ways.  
  
And he had the right to know the truth, right?  
  
' _Enough of games. It's time to take the bait_.'  
  
He was interested in what he could fish. He sipped his coffee and then grabbed his cell phone, which was on the table, and dialed the doctor's number. He waited until he heard the voice of his friend on the other side:  
  
'Good morning, Lloyd. It's Will. I was wondering if you had anything to do this Thursday night...'

 


	11. Chapter 11

Will took him to an art gallery. The exhibition was composed of works by local artists who paid homage to the city with their paintings, sculptures and collages. There was a generous section dedicated to photography and on the wall at the back of the gallery, there was a mural depicting the spirit of New Orleans.  
  
'It's a very different exhibition.' Hannibal said, as he and Will paced the room watching the works.  
  
'It's good, don't you think?'  
  
'Yes.' he nodded. They both agreed with that.  
  
'I've been waiting it for a while.' Will confessed. 'I was handed a leaflet on the street about a month ago, when I went shopping downtown.'  
  
'In that case, I hope you are enjoying: nothing spoils a birthday as much as an ill-fated plan. And speaking of birthdays...'  
  
The doctor reached into his pocket and took out a small package wrapped in gift wrap. Will looked at him with a smile, between shy and excited. He wasn't expecting it: he had never told him the date of his birthday... but evidently he knew it.  
  
Hannibal returned the gesture, while his young friend opened the package and brought out a beautiful silver pendant with an ornament that represented the universe and, in the center, a bright star:  
  
'It's Sirius, the dog's star.' Will acknowledged at once. His smile widened. 'Lloyd, you shouldn't have bothered.'  
  
'Nonsense. How can there be a birthday without gifts?' he joked, fun and affection shone in his eyes. He stepped forward, shortening the distance between them. 'Besides, I think Sirius is the most appropriate star for you. Why don't you try it on? I'd like to see how you look.'  
  
'Sure.' he put on the pendant and watched him expectantly. 'How do I look?'  
  
'Explendid. It comes to you like a finger ring. No doubt you will know that Sirius is the brightest star in the sky.'  
  
'In that she and I differ.' he said, smiling back at Hannibal's warm gaze.  
  
'Not at all.'  
  
'Do you want to go for dinner?' he proposed him, after a moment. 'We have already seen everything here and there are some lovely restaurants in this area. Or if you prefer, we could go to my house: you could try my seafood gumbo stock.'  
  
'It sounds tempting.'  
  
'Let's go then?'  
  
'Whenever you want.'  
  
They left the gallery together and in Will's car, they went to his house. When they arrived the dogs received them, specifically Abigail, which woke up as soon as she heard them access to the cabin of the boat. After responded to her welcome and leaving her back in her bed with a toy in her jaws, Will head toward the kitchen but Hannibal gently took his arm to stop him.  
  
The young man stared at the doctor. Hannibal knew he was guessing at his intentions just by the look on his face and that's what he wanted. The way his friend looked at him made it clear that this didn't surprise him... because it was something he already have imagined and was waiting for.  
  
'Maybe we could leave dinner for later... if you feel like it.'  
  
'Is that what you want?' Will asked, taking a step toward him. Now they were at a distance from a kiss.  
  
'That depends on what you want.'  
  
'This is what I want.'  
  
He kissed him, straight and tenderly on the lips. He placed a hand on the back of his neck to draw him closer to him and explored the inside of his mouth with his tongue, while Hannibal surrendered and put his arms around his waist, holding him to his chest.  
  
It was a soft, deep kiss, the kind of kiss they had been waiting for years. When it finished both of them were short of breath.  
  
'I knew it.' Will sighed, pleased. 'We were more than friends in the past.'  
  
'Much more. But unfortunately we never got to this end.'  
  
His friend stared at him stupefied.  
  
'What the hell were we thinking!?'  
  
Hannibal smiled.  
  
'I don't know. Circumstances didn't allow us to advance, I suppose. It was... complicated.'  
  
'Well, it's easy now.' he looked into his eyes. His face showed a determination and desire that whetted his own feelings. 'Come to bed with me, Lloyd.'  
  
'As you wish.'  
  
They kissed again. And as they did, they moved around the room and Will guided them both to the bedroom.

Both of them had a feeling that that would be a long night.

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

They undressed each other. They exchanged kisses and caresses as they headed straight for the bed and the clothes were falling down on the way.  
  
Hannibal made Will lay on the bed. His reddish-brown gaze swept over his partner's body as he finished undressing him, taking off his pants and underwear. He run over his body with his hands, from the young man's chest to stop on the scar of his belly, which he caressed with devotion and a bit of regret.  
  
'Be careful, please.' Will asked. There was an uncertain light in his eyes, though his willingness to make it happen was visible. 'I have never done this before... with a man, I mean.'  
  
'Don't worry. I'm not new, I know what to do.'  
  
'I don't even have condoms.' he apologised. 'I don't bring many people to my bed usually, so...'  
  
'The lack of means won't be a problem.' he said, bending over to kiss his neck. He bit softly before sucking, tearing a lovely sound out of Will's throat, who arched for more. 'We don't have to make it to the end on our first time.' he whispered in his ear. 'We'll have time for that. In addition, there are other equally enjoyable ways of getting what we want.'  
  
Will answered with another groan, this time because his partner's mouth had just found his left nipple and was focusing on it until make him gasped. Hannibal gnawed gently and sucked hard, using a perfectly calibrated pressure of his teeth and mouth on the sensitive skin, moistening and sensitizing it to the highest degree. It was a strategy designed to arouse the most excitement in Will, to make him lose control... and he was about to get it twice.  
  
They could both feel the desire of the other increase: their bodies were in contact and they moved in unison, entirely by instinct. They would have liked to be able to go further, to make the penetration real, but without protection and especially without lubricant at their disposal - beyond what anyone could think, only saliva was not enough, especially the first time - the experience would have been painful. So they would have to settle for what they had.  
  
Hannibal descended through his partner's body, putting dedication and care on what he did, as he did with everything he loved. He reached the junction between Will's legs and was about to devote his efforts there when the young man turned the tables: without previous warning, he made the two turn to stay on top and then gave the doctor the fellatio that the other man had planned for him. Hannibal gasped as he received such a pleasant surprise, he moaned hard, clutching one hand to the sheets and the other to the hair of his lover. Will wasn't exactly an expert but he learned quickly and was enthusiastic about what he was doing. Besides, he was there to guide his movements if it was necessary.  
  
When both were very close, the psychiatrist changed position again, getting to stay on top. Will hugged him, greeted him with his whole body. Hannibal kissed him, voracious and needy as he felt in those last moments. He tangled a hand in Will's hair and they moved together until they reached the pleasure, exchanging kisses, caresses, moans... enjoying a passion and a bond that both shared and longed for.  
  
After the gale, only the spoils remained. Exhausted and satisfied, Hannibal retired after stealing a sweet kiss from his partner. He lay down beside him, trying to catch his own breath.  
  
'I love you, Will.' he said with honesty, without pretending and not ashamed of it. 'I love you.'  
  
Will didn't answer. When the doctor turned his head to look at him, he found him with his eyes closed. He had fallen asleep.  
  
Hannibal smiled before closing his eyes and falling asleep too.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

He awoke the next morning, wrapped in sheets and the unmistakable scent of Will. He rolled, still without opening his eyes, wanting to reach with one hand to his partner but only finding an empty and cold space beside him.

 

He frowned, confused at first, and then sighed: Will would have got up earlier. He could bet he would be in the kitchen, feeding the dogs and perhaps preparing breakfast for both...

 

He apened his eyes with a smile and he got out of bed for a quick shower before dressing. Then he made the bed and left the bedroom to meet Will.

 

The former FBI agent was nowhere.

 

Hannibal looked around, confused: because of the small ship, losing someone in there was impossible. If Will wasn't on board it was because he had left the ship. But he had left without warning him, without even left a note. There was no cooked breakfast, all was quiet and the only sign of life was the laptop on the table, which Will certainly would have forgotten to leave.

 

But where had he gone?

 

The dogs were not there, either. He sighed with relief, imagining his partner would have taken them for a walk and, if so, they would be back soon. He could prepare breakfast meanwhile and wait for Will and himself to have breakfast together... or so he thought, until he realized that the dogs' beds and bowls had disappeared.

 

_'What...?'_

 

He walked into the kitchen and opened one of the cupboards, where two days earlier he had seen by chance that Will kept the dogs' food. There had been a five kilos sack there but now it was gone.

 

_'What does this mean?'_

 

Fearing the worst, he went to the bedroom and checked his friend's closet: everything was in place. Will had not taken anything from there nor the bathroom. What was happening? Was that some kind of macabre joke or surprise? What had possessed his partner to run away with the dogs without saying anything to him? And if so, why he had done it?

 

He began to fidget, to chafe: that wasn't normal. He had to figure out what the hell was going on.

 

He returned to the living room and went straight to the dining table. He had a hunch. He moved the mouse in circles to light up the screen and voila! There he was... his face staring at him from his profile page in the FBI's Most Wanted website.

 

His stomach contracted. He felt anger and a frozen empty inside. Will knew it, he had discovered who he actually was and he had run away. He had not taken anything from the house because he could have awakened him, if he have slipped into the bedroom to pack. So he had collected what was necessary for him, his dogs, and had escaped with them. Without trying to talk to him, without saying a word... like a thief in the middle of the night.

 

By now he might be in a police station in the city, reporting him. The only sensible option for him was to flee, to take a flight at the airport before the authorities could stop him.

 

But he wouldn't leave. Not without Will. He wasn't going to lose him again after having found him, having believed him dead for years. At least... at least they had to talk about it.

 

He turned on his heels and left the boat, determined. He checked out in passing that Will's car was not outside, which was no surprise him at all: no one in their right mind - with some exceptions - would flee on foot. He himself went to his house to collect the keys and get in his rented car.

 

He joined the traffic after leaving the dock and drove around the city without knowing exactly where he was going. He tried to think: where Will have gone? Assuming he had not rushed to report him - the cold in his bed showed that his partner had left him at least an hour ago, maybe two, in all that time it was a miracle he hadn't come back with the police to arrest him, what encouraged him to think his friend hadn't betrayed him - where would he go? Will was a loner who made his living humbly fixing boat engines. He didn't have much money, he was sure he didn't have more properties apart from his boat and he has fled with nothing. So where would he go? Where can he find shelter...?

 

Suddenly, he knew. The answer just came to his mind and his stomach turned over. Of course, why not? It was his home, his lighthouse on the sea. He had no other options and he would find it difficult to find accommodation bringing the dogs with him because not everyone accepted pets. However, there they would have all the space they want and the place was conveniently isolated, it had been abandoned for years...

 

He increased speed and joined the highway as he could to get out of the city. Will was an hour or two ahead, he should do everything possible to catch him up so they could talk: they couldn't simply leave things like that. He was willing to make concessions, if Will decided to stay with him. Anyway, after what happened they couldn't be separated. Not again. He would hate... he wasn't going to let it happen.

 

He was going to find him and convince him that they must stay together. Will already knew it. He had always known it but never overcame his fear to accept it. This time, he would be forced to do it.

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

He arrived at Wolf Trap at night. He parked in the driveway, behind a car he recognized as that of Will.

 

His partner was waiting for him on the porch, sitting with a glass of whiskey in his hand. He didn't move from his chair when he saw him coming, except to leave the glass aside. His blue eyes watched him with that potential violence that, with him, was always floating on the surface. From inside the house the dogs could be heard but Hannibal ignored them.

 

'I figured you'd be here.' he said, when he met him on the porch.

 

'I figured you'd come.'

 

'Have you been preparing yourself?' he asked, after a moment. 'You left your computer on purpose, so I knew you knew and come to get you.'

 

'I knew you just didn't let it pass. I hoped you would get it.'

 

'So it has been. By the way, I appreciate you wasn't reported me. You could have done.'

 

'And take the risk you escape from prison again?' he pierced him with his beautiful eyes. 'You're still in time to get on the first plane back to Argentina. If I were you, I would.'

 

'Not without you.'

 

Will snorted.

 

'I'm not going anywhere with you, Hannibal.'

 

'Then you should have left, instead of letting me bread crumbs so I could find you. Now you think let me go away?'

 

'I told you I didn't want to know anything more about you and I wasn't going to look for you.'

 

'And yet, once again, you have guided me here. Maybe you don't want to get rid of me as much as you think, Will.'

 

'Is that what you think?' he challenged him with his eyes, as stubborn as ever.

 

'You cannot leave me. Not after what happened between us last night.'

 

'Last night was the last grain of a mountain of deception.' he rose to face him. 'You lied to me from the beginning, coming close to me with a false story to earn my trust and speaking of that...'

 

He threw a punch. He struck him on the cheek and made him fall because he wasn't expecting that. Hannibal watched him from the ground, hurt and angry, but knowing Will deserved that revenge: he had reasons to be angry with him, though actually he had only used Lloyd's story not to hurt him, to respect his amnesia and benefit from it just in case it proved to be permanent. They both knew otherwise things haven't gone so well.

 

Will watched him from above. His eyes had that fierce, intense look, the doctor recognized and loved so well.

 

'You'll never get into my bed again.' he warned him.

 

'It was you who got me into it. Don't you remember? Your memory fail you again, Will.'

 

'I wish it did. I wish I'd gone back to remember nothing about you.'

 

'If so, we would still be together.' he stood up. 'Is that what makes you so angry? You want to be with me but your conscience doesn't allow you. Not even knowing that it is the only way you will be happy, accepting who you are and what you want.'

 

'I want not to see you anymore.'

 

'Liar.' he took a step closer to him.

 

'Don't come any closer or I'll shoot you.'

 

'With what gun? I know you don't bring any with you.'

 

'I have yet fists, Hannibal.'

 

'Hit me all you want but that will not change things. I love you and you love me and it will remain so, no matter how much you try to ignore it. Although you turn it into pieces and bury it in quicklime.'

 

Will glared and turned away from him. By the tension of his body, he was obviously struggling with himself. Always the same: he harm himself so much that way but it seemed he couldn't help it. How much happy the two could be, if only...

 

'Go away or I'll report you with the police.'

 

'We both know you won't do it: if you wanted to, I would already be behind bars. You could even have killed me on my sleep. I wouldn't have noticed... and you would have gotten rid of me for good.'

 

'I wish I could. All you've done for me since I met you was destroy my life.'

 

'That's not true. I destroyed a fictional life you have created around to protect yourself from the world. Am I guilty of going through your armor, to rip you from your comfort zone, to make you get the best of you? Yes. But don't deny you wanted it as much as I wanted. You needed it, Will. You're different from the rest, you are unique. You wouldn't have been able to continue living caught between the mob for long.'

 

'It was my life.' he turned to face him, angry. 'You had no right to take it from me.'

 

'You may be right.' he granted. 'Don't think I haven't had time to reflect on my actions. I regret some of the things I did in the past, I didn't mean to hurt you. First of all I have always been your friend, Will.'

 

'Go away. I don't want to see you anymore.'

 

Hannibal sighed.

 

'After all this time, you're still scared. You fear what you are and what there is between us. The things we could do together: we could enjoy life, if you'd just let yourself...'

 

'Go away. Don't keep talking to me, I don't want to hear you.'

 

'I'll go, if that's what you want. I know you need time and space to put things in order. But you know where I am.' he added. 'Come find me when you're ready. And don't forget that I love you, I have always loved you. You're the only man I've ever loved in my whole life, Will.'

 

He turned on his heels and went down the porch steps. The young man saw him go and fought the urge to go after him. He fought against that part of himself that drove him to follow in the footsteps of his partner, to elope with him to Argentina if necessary and live the two together and free forever.

 

It was crazy, a dangerous chimera. Instead, he chose to open his mouth to put an end to everything, to bid him farewell:

 

'Goodbye, Hannibal.'

 

The doctor stopped. A painful feeling of _Deja Vu_ through him, remembering that a similar situation had occurred in the same house, a night like that, many years ago. His last farewell was over for him with a stay in prison for three years and for Will with a marriage that was a weak shadow of the union they shared... just like its temporal association with Bedelia in Italy.

 

But this time he wouldn't let him win. He wouldn't allow him to push him away just like that, wouldn't give him that satisfaction:

 

' _Au Revoir_ , Will.'

 

He left. He got into his car and drove away from Wolf Trap, knowing that their separation wouldn't be eternal. He saw in Will's eyes before got into the vehicle: the despair, the frustration, the struggle...

 

No matter if it takes him years. No matter how much he had to suffer to find out. Sooner or later the wall would fall and he would have no choice but to accept the truth, to embrace it.

 

One of these days the cup finally would be repaired.

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far we have come, dear readers. Another story ended. I hope you have enjoyed it and, as always, I want to thank you all for having devoted your time to reading, commenting, giving kudos or including it among your bookmarks.  
> I hope you continue to enjoy your readings in the future ;)!

_Tuscany (Italy). Some months later._

 

The letter arrived in Argentina months after their departure. At that time Hannibal had taken precautions, just in case Will - as used to be common in him - surprised him choosing a different path than he had designed for him.

 

When he received the letter he has been living in Cuba for months. He had instructed his employees to take charge of his farm in Buenos Aires and discreetly send his mail to Havana, where he was responsible for pick it once a month.

 

The letter itself contained no words, it only was an envelope with an old key inside. A large steel one with a label tied with rope hanging from one end. In the label an address was written: it belonged to a place in Tuscany called Villa Bella.

 

He knew instantly what it was: his partner had taken precautions to make the letter reachs him being undetected by the authorities, making sure to cover his tracks as much as possible... and he was sending him the keys to their new home.

 

The message was clear and Hannibal set off immediately: he packed and sent a message to his landlord - the rent has been paid until next month, so there would be no problems - to announce his departure. Then he took a plane to Italy and went to join his partner in his small villa in Tuscany.

 

He used the keys to open the gate, which was old and heavy, made in wrought iron. He walked across the walkway to the house and found Will in the garden, clearing it. It was spring and it was hot, the young man was working in jeans and no shirt. The curls were rattled in his forehead, he was sweating a bit and the pendant that Hannibal had given him for his birthday was hanging on his chest, which looked - like the rest of his body - more tan due to prolonged exposure to the sun in a warm climate.

 

Will saw him coming and stood up, dropping the tools while Hannibal left his suitcase on the floor and they both looked at each other.

 

'The Cuban sun suits you.' Will said, gazing admiringly his partner's tan.

 

'Same to you.' Hannibal replied, with a smile.

 

'You're just in time for lunch.'

 

'Good. I have always appreciated your meals, Will.'

 

They were silent. There was much to express and few words to do so. The youngest spoke after a moment:

 

'Are you waiting for my to turn up your ego, admitting you were right?'

 

'I wont ask you so much. We all have our pride, Will: it costs us admit that we consider our mistakes.'

 

The young man hinted a smile. The psychiatrist had not even lost a bit of his arrogance. The expression on his face told him the good doctor felt proud thanks to his letter. No doubt he thought he had finally surrended his will and he believed to have control of the situation, of their relationship... but control was something elusive, it could change hands easily. Sometimes only a few words were enough:

 

'I need you, Hannibal.'

 

Three simple words and the facade of arrogance collapsed. A red glow in his eyes, admiration and longing in his face. An unmistakable feeling in his words:

 

'I need you too, Will.'

 

'What are you waiting for? I'm right here.'

 

He opened his arms, just a little gesture, and the doctor moved by inertia to merge into them. They hugged each other, thightgly. They stayed that way for a long moment, just enjoying the feeling of being together.

 

'I've missed you.'

 

'Me too.' confessed Hannibal, hiding his face in his neck, looking for his smell. 'You smell like ground... and fertilizer. And you're still using that awful aftershave.'

 

Will laughed.

 

'You smell like expensive cologne, too refined for the countryside. Is not the story of our lives?'

 

'It could be.' he admitted. He kept stroking him, instinctively, as they parted and his gaze focus on the house. 'Is there a place where we can catch up?'

 

'We'll do it in the kitchen.' he looked slyly at him to catch his attention. 'We don't want the food to cool, right?'

 

'Nothing is further from my thoughts.'

 

'Follow me.' he separated from him and they walked together the short distance to the house. Hannibal sought his hand, discreetly and insistently, so Will gave it to him and both intertwined their fingers as they walked.

 

'The property belonged to Jack?' Hannibal inquired curiously.

 

The young man nodded.

 

'I inherited it when he died.'

 

'And you thought it was a good idea to make us meet here. By chance we will settle in the area?'

 

'Would you like it?' they stopped for a moment, facing each other. 'I know how much you love Italy, especially Florence. We are a bit far but from here we could visit it with some frequency.'

 

'That's a great idea. It almost seems a little revenge.' he said, half smiling. 'Jack struggled to keep us apart in recent years. How ironic that we will get together in his old home.'

 

'In that case, I guess it's poetic justice.'

 

'The triumph of nature against adversity.'

 

'We'll have to discuss that nature later, in private.'

 

'To explore it or contain it? I guess you wont make the mistake of trying to censor it again.'

 

'Do I look so stupid to you?'

 

'You're not stupid, Will. Not at all.'

 

'Let's take it slow: meal first, then get up to date... and we'll leave the discussions till last, do you think? It's best not to spoil the moment.'

 

'I agree.' he smiled, satisfied. He looked at him with a twinkle of devotion in his eyes. 'I love you, Will.'

 

'I love you too.'

 

Smiling, they resumed their steps and walked together into what would be their new home.

 

**THE END**

 

 

 


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